Fear sat at my table; he sat with the coldest glare. Then, eyes rolling, he stood and formed a ring of fire, a gate. Not so hard it seemed. Yet from above it rained petroleum, soaking me from crown to toe. I sat there for the longest time, my head a shambolic mess. Water. Get water. And at this thought a dessert grew, miles of sand all around. All there was the fire ring, the stench of petrol and scorching yellow grains. All that was left was my God call, and therein the answer came.
"For writers in the next half century and beyond, a comprehension of how creative writing, neurology, biology and our environment interact will be essential for a successful career."
- a link to the full article is in my bio and on the Descriptionari "About" page.
- you can email me using either AngelaCarolineAbraham@gmail.com or AngelaDescriptionari@outlook.com for a quote on tutoring and/or editing services.
Much love!!!
Angela Abraham (Daisy)
Hungry streets and silent lamps meet core-cold walls. Barely a window is whole, barely a roof is watertight. Drip. Drip. Drip. Even the echo of footfalls and laughter is long, long forgotten. I stop. In dappled shade, my eyes fall to the crumbling sidewalk. Beneath an age-bowed tree slumps a long storm bedraggled doll, her eyes scratched, her short arms reaching toward nothing at all. I pick it up, slumping onto a rust-bitten bonnet, the car groan-bouncing in its pools of cracking rubber. Then comes a sterile wind of no aroma, not even floral weeds; how it whistles in the languished way of horror movies. It sings a song of winter's grip, of a world smothered in ice. Abandoned streets, abandoned homes, lives once rooted in mundane stability... How they must long for those dreary days.
“Rock is cleaved not by storms thrash, yet by aeon’s drip. On and on, on and on, on and on. When time is measured this way, by the micro-erosions of water’s strike, it is the slowest of blades. That is the power of water, for good and for bad. So take care, lovely Cleo, that what brings you to sculptured form is born of sunlit ponds alone.”
"It turns out, as obviousness would have it, that our brains (especially those of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in this case) have been teaching us neurology through comic books and the movies that have come from them."
Full article linked to from my profile, click "abraham" below, awesome!!
"When we make daily choices that are emotionally indifferent, the sort that the money-nexus makes faux-virtues of, we build our capacity for emotional indifference at the direct expense of our capacity for empathy, and thus the conflict between money and love is laid bare."
Arcing in the blue, as if it were the tip of a conductor's wand, the beach ball swirled high above the yawning sands. It was a sky ballerina, plumped up so proudly with oceanic air. Then, as if by magic command, down it came to my outstretched arms. In the peach light of that early day, I took it as a good omen from the world beyond. Be patient. Wait. All will come right.
To the grim unflinching light that seared the unguarded retinas, came a form of shadow’s breath that brought the stank of rotten fish. Of form, it had none. Of eyes and mouth, it had none. Yet this beast grabbed and consumed all things as if it were both black-hole and tornado in one. Upon the sweat-slickened tile floor, I slipped. Clunk. Gasp. Heart racing. With neither footsteps nor sound, it neared. Only its stench intensified with proximity. Eyes on the door I locked into a sprinters pose - now or never, live or die, this was it. Go.
It was as if the rays of that dawn, pulsing through freshly clothed trees, were my heartbeat drum. With every dance of my limbs the tune became ever freer, its notes ever lighter. Head up toward the sky, watching more sun-born spotlights than anyone could count, my wakeful life was better than my dreams. For so long I’d been in the dark, no more, no more. From here on in it’s sunlight and dancing every day.
"Adjective and noun associations are worthy of our consideration because by careful linkage of words such as 'black' with strong emotionally positive words (such as in 'black heavens' and 'noble black night') we can start to program subconscious bias from the brain by creating a background neurochemistry that is more positive. This keeps the prefrontal cortex more fully operational and encourages more empathy in both thoughts and behaviours. Thus society develops better through their own choices and evolves. This is part of social evolution and this kind of awareness in writers is essential."